A New Conversation
by Alice Ariell
Summary: After Hannibal's ultimate arrest, Will is invited to Bedelia Du Maurier's home. She has returned...for more reasons than one. One-shot Widelia3


_**Dear Fannibals, you are the BEST. But you already know that. The characters in this show are written so brilliantly, played so perfectly, that I find writing Bryan Fuller's Hannibal fanfics to be Quite the writing prompt! LOVE to the show times a billion perfect little smirks from Mads. I own 0% of this but my absolute love for Bryan's show, the direction and the actors. **_

_**-After Hannibal's arrest. Will is free. The mysterious Bedelia Du Maurier returns, wanting to speak with Will. He agrees to meet with her. Widelia ensues :p-**_

The windows burst with golden light. Bedelia Du Maurier stands with intense stillness, as though preparing to become stone. Her eyes are fixed on a vast distance she cannot fully see. As she breathes in, a man cautiously enters the room. He looks afraid, as though approaching a dangerous animal. She slowly turns, allowing her gold hair to sweep down in a smooth wave.

"Will," she says quietly, as though unsure. But then she smiles. She is glad to see him. Free.

"Bedelia," he responds, with unusual familiarity.

She restrains a smile. Her jaw is made of iron. "Thank you for agreeing to come to my home. I am…hesitant to return. In the past I had chosen to remain…secluded…to recover."

"I understand," Will responds immediately, with a nod. "When they _finally_ released me, I locked myself in the house with my dogs for months. If Alana didn't come every day I might have…done something rash. _But he can't win_."

"The world is a dangerous place with Hannibal Lecter in it."

"Yes. It is."

"I have always struggled with my opinion of Hannibal."

"Which is?"

"That he is dangerous. And _charming_. Brilliant. Narcissistic enough to risk the earth for the sun." Will dangles on every syllable she utters.

"But he's gone now. Buried in the same cell I was. He must…love it. The poetry." He looks pale, disgusted.

"Meaning he is_ not_ gone. He is still close to you, Will. He is under your skin as much as you are under his. He will not want to let you go. It is likely he may harm others in his pursuit of you."

"Even behind bars?"

"Hannibal is very…c_harming_. I am very concerned that Frederick Chilton may not be able to contain him."

"…the way _he_ contained _me_?"

Bedelia looks apologetic. "You spent weeks recovering from an advanced auto-immune disease. The parts of your brain containing imagination and _fear_ were on fire. I can only imagine the horrific tricks your mind played on you. The tricks _he _played on you."

"You can't." Will sits in the chair typically reserved for Hannibal. She takes her own. "It wasn't that he was a serial killer. _Just saying that makes me feel insane_…"

"I was his therapist. You don't have to feel ashamed. Not with me," she says softly, tilting her head.

There is something about this woman that Will Graham needs to trust. That he almost loves. "_Thank you._ I don't hate him for killing and eating all those people. In a sick way, I understand." Bedelia swallows. "What I can't understand is how wrong I was about him. He wanted me to think he was my friend so that he could use me. How could I not see it? It was _so obvious!_"

"You've felt ostracized before." She expresses this as a statement of fact.

"Yes." He answers quietly, but obediently. "I should have realized someone like him would never care about someone like me."

"He does care about you."

"Don't say that. _Please_."

"In _his_ way, he loves you. He was willing to kill _me_ in his pursuit to look innocent in order to remain close to _you_," she points out with tight lips.

"Did he try to hurt you?" Will looks shocked.

"I do not know. I needed to…withdraw. He may have tried." Paired with this last statement, she smiles.

"When you left…things got…_ugly_."

"Seeing you behind bars…feeling your innocence…I am deeply sorry I could not stay."

"After what happened…I was glad you had gone."

"He would not leave you alone in that hospital. He was too possessive of you to allow anyone else to help you," she replies smoothly, almost gloating.

"But now, he doesn't have that power."

"No. He does not." She gazes at him, wondering why he has come to her.

A minute passes. "I know that I'll never be…_normal. _Not after what was done to me. By more than just Hannibal. My boss, my colleagues, _the woman I loved_," these words pour out of him like oil from a well, "all tried to convince me I had experienced a complete mental break and to trust them when they said I was a psychotic serial killer. That I murdered _Abigail _and…_ate her._ I…_loved_…I loved her. Like a sister."

"Or a daughter."

"I saw myself as her father, yes. I got so close to Hobbs…I…Hannibal _made me _get close to him. When he murdered Cassie Boyle. Marissa. Abigail. He used my instability to paint my eyes black and fed me my fears through a foot of medical tubing."

"I was…more than disturbed when I learned what he had done to you in your home. I cannot imagine how you survived this ordeal. But you did."

"Yes, I did. Except I can't get away from him, can I?"

"Perhaps not…_yet_. Have you considered relocation?"

"Yes. I was thinking Florida, maybe. The dogs would love it. But I don't think I'm ready."

"If you desire to continue this conversation, I would agree. For now though, would you like to share a glass of wine? The sunset over the trees in the yard is exquisite."

Without any hesitation, Will follows Bedelia through her home and into the warm embrace of the sun.

-_Hopefully more to come!_ _Leave a review and I'll be persuaded! _


End file.
